


Never Be Ready

by afirethatcannotdie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Americans, Best Friends, Carnival, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Partying, Pining, Rhode Island - Freeform, Underage Drinking, distance makes the heart grow fonder i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:33:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afirethatcannotdie/pseuds/afirethatcannotdie
Summary: “Remember the documentary film program in Los Angeles? The one that I got waitlisted for? They called me this morning and said that a spot opened up and they offered it to me.”“That’s great!” Louis says, and he means it. “When do you come back?”He and Harry have spent every summer of their lives together. Surely Harry won’t ruin that perfect record.“The middle of August,” Harry says, clearly thrilled at the prospect of spending ten weeks in California, and Louis’ heart sinks to his stomach like a stone in the sea.A high school AU where a summer without Harry makes Louis realize that he wants to be a little bit more than best friends.





	Never Be Ready

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Marie](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com/) for betaing! Title from Mat Kearney's _Never Be Ready_ , which is an excellent song.

**_June_ **

It’s Harry’s shaky intake of breath that clues Louis into the fact that something is off.

“Lou,” he says, pushing up from where he’s been laying on his stomach and bringing himself to a sitting position, legs crossed beneath him on the bed. Louis watches as he fiddles with the fraying seams of the blanket that Louis’ grandma made for him when he was a baby. It’s been on Louis’ bed for as long as he can remember. He and Harry used to drag it out every year for the Fourth of July fireworks in the park, until Louis decided that it was too fragile to get dirty anymore.

Louis closes the history textbook they’ve been studying for the past hour and sits up so that he’s mirroring Harry’s position. Something’s wrong, Harry’s all wrong. The way that he’s biting his lip and fiddling with the little stringy bits at the end of the blanket - something’s not right here. Is Harry okay? Is it something with his parents? Is he—

“Lou,” Harry says again, voice a little more confident this time. “I got accepted to the film program at USC. I just found out this morning. I’m leaving next week, right after the French final.”

“What?” Louis isn’t sure he’s heard him properly.

“The film program,” Harry says, waving a hand in the air as he talks. “Remember the documentary film program in Los Angeles? The one that I got waitlisted for? They called me this morning and said that a spot opened up and they offered it to me.”

Louis has a vague memory of early spring, when Harry had opened his email at lunchtime and found out he hadn’t been given a spot in the program. He’d shrugged it off, claiming that now it meant they could have the whole iconic ‘summer before senior year of high school’ that they’d been planning for years. Louis had been secretly relieved, and they’d put the matter behind them.

Until now, apparently.

“I leave next week, and I get to live in a dorm, and they have all these programs in LA, and I already looked and Fleetwood Mac _and_ the Rolling Stones are performing in LA this summer, I’m gonna try to get tickets. You get to go to all these events and meet film producers, and you learn so much from them. I can’t _believe_ they accepted me.”

He’s talking faster than Louis has ever heard him in his entire life, and there’s a smile spreading over his face and for a moment, Louis can’t feel anything but pure happiness for him.

“That’s great!” Louis says, and he means it. “When do you come back?”

He and Harry have spent every summer of their lives together. Surely Harry won’t ruin that perfect record.

“The middle of August,” Harry says, clearly thrilled at the prospect of spending ten weeks in California, and Louis’ heart sinks to his stomach like a stone in the sea.

 

* * *

 

_**August** _

Summer in Providence sucks. His job at the grocery store sucks, and the guys in Louis’ band all decided they should take the summer off, which sucks, and everything about Louis’ life just sucks. Niall’s off visiting family in Ireland, Liam’s working at a summer camp all day, and Zayn’s doing God knows what. It’s been like this all summer: wash, rinse, repeat. He trudges home from the work in the rain — his mom’s car in the shop and won’t be fixed for another week — and resigns himself to another evening spent playing video games and eating potato chips.

He shakes off the water droplets from his umbrella and leaves it on the front porch. His mom doesn’t like him doing that — she’s irrationally paranoid that someone is going to steal his _four dollar umbrella_ in their _very safe neighborhood,_ for whatever reason — but she’s working the night shift at the hospital and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. There’s a stack of mail in the front hall, and as he kicks off his shoes he flicks through it with disinterest.

At the end of the pile, though, there’s a postcard with his name on it, the chicken scratch handwriting as familiar as his own.  

> _Hi Lou! Went to Disneyland today, you would’ve loved it. We went on all the rides and Jeff nearly threw up on Space Mountain. Turns out he doesn’t like roller coasters all that much. Also you would’ve loved meeting all the princesses — I got Cinderella’s autograph for you! Jeff dared me to propose to as many of them as I could. We got churros and ice cream and I ate so much food I thought I was going to be sick. See you soon!_
> 
> _Harry xx_

Louis tries to stamp down the bitterness that wells up inside of him, but it’s early August and he’s had two whole months of trying not to be bitter. He’s happy for Harry, he really is, but the truth is that life without him is just _boring._

He’s gotten a few postcards from Harry, and all of them have mentioned this guy Jeff. Jeff is Harry’s new best friend, apparently. That’s fine. Harry can just be best friends with Jeff forever and Louis can stay home alone for the rest of his life until he _dies._ That’s perfectly fine.

 

* * *

 

“So man, how’s your summer going?”

Louis pulls his attention away from the bonfire to look up at Gavin, a guy he’s gone to school with for as long as he can remember. Zayn is somewhere in the crowd gathered in the backyard, probably trying to woo Perrie Edwards like he’s been doing at every backyard party this whole summer. It’s so typical that Zayn would drag him out tonight and then abandon him three minutes after they got their drinks.

That’s how he’s ended up sitting on a bench next to Gavin, who he’s pretty sure has had a crush on him for years. There’s nothing there, though, no matter how much Louis wishes he could force it. Gavin’s a nice guy, but it’s never gonna happen. He doesn't make him laugh like Harry does, so what's the point?

“It’s good,” he says automatically, his standard response for the past eight weeks. “How’s yours?”

“It’s great! I’m doing an internship at this tiny record label in Boston, I take the train there every day. It’s pretty sick, actually. I can get you into one of the shows, actually, if you want. Famous Outsider is playing next week.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis _loves_ Famous Outsider. He may or may not have forced his band to learn all three of their most recent singles so that they could cover them.

“Yeah, it’s on the fourteenth. Do you want to come?”

Louis’ face falls. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Why not? It’s a free ticket.”

Louis sips his beer, clutching the blue Solo cup and trying to act chill. “I’m, erm, supposed to FaceTime Harry that night. He’s presenting this film he made, said that he’d get his friend to FaceTime me so that I could watch his little speech.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow. “It’s just one night, Louis, we’d probably be back by midnight.”

“Can’t,” Louis says. “If it were any other day, absolutely, but I can’t.”

“You can’t just get them to record it?”

“Not the same,” Louis says, shaking his head and taking a long sip of beer.

“Right,” Gavin says, his face suddenly cloudy. “Right, I get it. You and Harry, yeah?”

“He’s my best friend,” Louis says with a shrug. “Promised him I’d watch the show. You know, he’s doing this really cool shit out in California. He sent me a photo the other day, he’s been interviewing famous filmmakers and making his own short film, do you want to see who he got to meet?”

By the time Zayn appears, Perrie glued to his side, Louis has been talking about Harry for a half hour and somehow, he feels a lot better.

 

* * *

 

Louis rubs his stomach and groans. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Me too. I think I’m lactose intolerant,” Niall adds.

“You’re not lactose intolerant, you asshole,” Liam says, and through the rearview mirror Louis can see Liam poking him in the stomach.

“Ouch!” Niall cries. “Don’t, I’ll be sick!”

“Don’t be a baby. You’re fine.”

Zayn grips the steering wheel and keeps his eyes on the road. “Would the two of you stop? I’m trying to drive.”

Liam slaps Niall on the shoulder and Niall flicks him back on the arm, but then the two of them move back to their own sides of the car and Zayn gives Louis a satisfied smile.

“Fancy yourself their dad or something?” Louis jokes. “Telling them what to do?”

“Think seventeen’s a bit young to be anyone’s dad, don’t you?”

“Well, you are the one who has to drive us everywhere,” Louis says. He’s spent more time in Zayn’s car than he could ever calculate. This is mostly due to the fact that Zayn is the only one of them who actually has his own car. Louis has to beg his mom to borrow her minivan, and whenever he does, it often involves driving at least one of his sisters somewhere in exchange.

“Not for lack of trying to get out of it,” Zayn grumbles, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. In the backseat, Niall and Liam are comparing the different flavors of ice cream they ate at this afternoon’s ice cream festival in Boston, an all-you-can-eat buffet. The sky is growing dark as they drive back to Providence. It’s a bit of a trek, but it’s tradition.

“I absolutely beat last year’s record,” Niall says. “I did.”

“You didn’t,” Liam argues. “Last year you had nineteen scoops. This year, only seventeen.”

“I had sixteen last year!” Niall says.

_“Nineteen.”_

“Louis, you remember, don’t you? Didn’t I have sixteen?”

Louis thinks back to last year’s festival, but all he can remember is Harry laughing as he piled their collective empty scoop cups so high that they nearly toppled over. His stomach had hurt from all the ice cream he’d eaten, but that paled in comparison to the pain in his abs from laughing so, so hard.

“Harry had twenty three,” he says quietly. “That’s all I remember. Harry had twenty three.”

 

* * *

 

Harry’s mum invites Louis’ family over for the barbecue they always throw in the middle of August, which initially was to celebrate some kind of event that no one can remember. He’s normally one half of the center of attention at this barbecue, which generally involves he and Harry competing over who can do more ridiculous tricks for the small crowd, singing duets and generally hamming things up until people are laughing so hard they’re begging them to stop because their abs hurt.

This year, he spends most of the night playing soccer with Harry’s little cousins. He doesn’t miss the concerned glances that Anne and his mom keep throwing him, but he ignores them.

It’s just not the same this year, and there’s a weird pit in his stomach that won’t go away.

 

* * *

 

Harry calls him out of the blue one afternoon when Louis is just leaving work. It’s been a miserable day, full of cranky old women and wailing babies and dads with no patience, and he’s been very much looking forward to going home and taking a nap. But the moment that he hears Harry’s voice, he takes a seat on the concrete curb just outside the grocery store to talk to him and doesn’t move for another hour and a half.

 

* * *

 

“Louis, we’re going to the waterpark next week. Do you want to come?” His mom pokes her head into Louis’ room. He looks up from the book he’s reading - an annoyingly predictable coming of age novel for which he needs to write a book report before he starts school - and gives him a hopeful look.

“What day are you going?”

“Wednesday.”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Why? I thought you had Wednesdays off.”

“I do. But that’s the day Harry gets home.”

She frowns. “Okay? His mom told me he gets back at night, so you can still come. You know, you sisters would really like it if you came.”

“Mom.”

“We’re just going for a bit of the day, I promise you’ll be back before he gets home.”

“What if he gets in early? I have to be home in case he does.”

“Louis,” she says quietly, her face softening, and he can tell that she wants to push the issue. He just looks back, and there’s a moment when he’s not sure what she’s going to do but then she just nods and runs her fingers through his hair while giving him a sad smile. “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

“So Harry’s coming back soon,” Zayn says, rolling over onto his back. The trampoline bounces with the movement, and Niall loses his balance and falls against Louis. Louis pushes back against him and then lets him settle, allowing Niall’s head to fall against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Three more days.” _Not like I’ve been counting._

“You excited?”

“Yeah,” Louis exhales quietly.

“Been a weird summer without him,” Zayn says.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he’ll be the same?”

“I hope so,” Louis says, and then he really considers it. “He probably won’t be. But I think he’ll still be him, you know?”

“Definitely.”

“It’s been weird though. I didn’t realize, like… how much time we spent together?” He raises his voice to make it sound like a question.

“You’re pretty codependent, alright,” Niall says with a chuckle. He shares a smile with Zayn, and Louis doesn’t know quite what to make of that.

“You’ve just seemed sad without him,” Zayn comments, and if it were anyone _but_ Zayn, who he’s been best friends with since they learned how to walk, he would be offended by the idea of someone reading his emotions better than he could himself. But this is Zayn, and Zayn does know him. “Like… lost.”

“I guess?” Louis says with a shrug. “But he’ll be back soon, and it’s all gonna be fine.”

“Just for a year though,” says Zayn.

“What do you mean?”

“In a year he’ll be going off to college,” Niall says, and Louis suddenly feels like there’s some sort of tag-teaming effort going on here.

“We’re _all_ going off to college,” Louis sits up so that his back is ramrod straight, dislodging Niall from his shoulder.

“We are,” Zayn says quietly. “And that’s what we’re supposed to do. But I just want you to be okay if… if Harry goes somewhere far away. Or if you guys can’t be together all the time.”

“I don’t… what are you trying to say?”

Niall flops down onto his stomach, bouncing the trampoline again. The old springs creak under their combined weight. “It just scares me that you were so sad this summer, that’s all. We barely saw you, man. It’s like being away from him made you not want to do anything.”

“That’s not true,” Louis protests weakly, scratching the back of his neck. The sun is starting to set, the sky pink-turning-orange and casting shadows on Zayn and Niall’s faces. They both look concerned. “Zayn was busy all summer and you were in Ireland and I had to work.”

“Louis, it’s okay that you missed him. I just don’t want to see you sad, alright? If there’s something you could do to be less sad, I think you need to do it.” Zayn says. He has more to say, Louis can tell, but then Louis’ mom calls them to come inside for dinner and Zayn can’t say anything else.

It doesn’t stop him from trying. “I know the two of you have always been different than the rest of us,” Zayn says quietly as he slings an arm around Louis’ shoulders, hanging back as they slowly walk into the house. “I just wish you’d figure it out.”

Louis wants to ask _figure what out?_ but his mom is telling them to hurry up and eat before the food gets cold and he can’t.

 

* * *

 

The birds are singing, the air is miraculously not-humid, the sun is shining, and it’s Wednesday.

Harry’s coming home today.

He sits up in bed and swears that he can hear the angelic chorus singing from the heavens. Harry is coming home, and things will go back to normal, and he won’t be miserable anymore. All's right with the world.

His mom has left him a list of chores to take care of while they’re all at the waterpark, and for the first time in his life, Louis mows the lawn and sweeps the floors with a spring in his step.

Harry had texted him his itinerary this morning: flight leaving Los Angeles at 8:22 am, which was 11:22 am in Providence, so he should be arriving around 5:30. Louis is strongly tempted to show up at the airport to greet him, but not having a car makes that kind of impossible, and he can’t get any of his friends to drive him.

Harry sends him a Snapchat when he lands, the Boston airport filter prominent at the bottom, but that’s not what makes Louis smile so wide he feels like his face might burst. It’s Harry’s happy grin, his face tanned from ten weeks in the Los Angeles sunshine.

He’s home. Louis gets to see him so, so soon. It doesn’t feel quite real.

He starts typing out a text to Harry when he sees the three little dots pop up to show that miles away — not that many miles now, thankfully — Harry is writing to _him._

_Hii, I’m back! Can’t wait to see you :)_

Louis’ heart leaps out of chest, and he’s about to write back that he too can’t wait, that he feels oddly nervous and tense and excited about the the thought of seeing Harry again, when the three dots pop up again.

_I know I said yesterday that you could come over right when I got home, but my parents want to take me out for dinner to celebrate my return. Can’t say no to cheesecake! So it’ll be another few hours :(_

_I’m sorry. I’ll text you the minute I’m home and you can come over then?_

Louis flops down on his bed, phone held high in the air as he reads Harry’s message over and over again until the words blur and he decides what to say.

_See you then :)_

 

* * *

 

Hurry up and wait.

The saying comes to Louis’ mind as he pushes an errant pair of peas around his empty plate with his fork. He’s waiting for Harry to text him and tell him that he can come over. They were supposed to get pizza from the place on Harry’s street, had talked about sitting in the backyard and splitting the one beer that Harry’s stepdad was likely to sneak them, but instead he’s stuck at home with nagging sisters.

“Why are you so sad?” his sister Fizzy asks, poking him in the chest. “I thought you would be happy.”

“Yeah, Mom said you wouldn’t be sad anymore once Harry came home,” Phoebe adds.

“I’m not _sad,_ ” Louis protests, glaring at them and then at his mom. She doesn’t make eye contact, and he turns back to his sisters. “I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” Daisy pipes up. “Because Lottie said she thinks you have a broken heart.”

“Because you’re in love,” Pheobe adds, smiling like she’s confiding her biggest secret.

“I do _not_ have a broken heart! And I’m not in love!” Louis grumbles. “Mom, can you tell them to shut up and finish their dinners?”

“Language,” his mom scolds, and then her face softens as she turns to the girls. “Girls, Louis’ friendship with Harry is his own business. Stop bugging him and finish your dinner.”

“I still think your behavior suggests that you’re in love with Harry,” Lottie says, and Louis flicks his last two peas in her direction and stomps upstairs.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s cousins came over to surprise him when he got home, and he probably won’t be able to hang out at all tonight. He apologizes profusely and promises that he’ll come over as soon as the sun rises in the morning, will climb through Louis’ bedroom window if he has to, but tonight is most likely out.

Louis climbs into bed and squeezes his eyes shut tight before he does something stupid like cry.

 

* * *

 

Louis wakes to the sound of something hitting his window. He ignores it and rolls over, making a mental note to remind his mom to get the tree branches cut. Any time there’s even a slight breeze, the branches decide to attack his window.

It happens again a minute later, a one-two rap-tap in quick succession, and he realizes that it’s not the tree branch.

He pushes the blankets aside and climbs out of bed, peering out onto the street below. It’s dark, but the flickering street light lets him see that there’s someone standing there. Is that—

It is.

He can’t push open the window fast enough, scrambling to unlock it and pushing upward.

“Harry?” he whisper-yells through the screen. “Is that you?”

“Hi!” Harry calls back, a proud grin on his face. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and he’s wearing a maroon USC t-shirt. Louis probably shouldn’t feel so _settled_ at the sight of him. “You gonna let me in?”

“Yeah, yeah, hang on. I’ll meet you at the back door?”

Harry nods and shoots him another grin. A moment later, he disappears to around the corner.

“Alright, alright,” Louis whispers to himself. He needs to change, needs to put on something that’s at least a little bit presentable. Even though — this is Harry, who’s seen him in pajamas and sweaty soccer clothes and boxers and suits. He doesn’t care what Louis looks like.

All the same, Louis pulls on a pair of jeans and gives the gray t-shirt laying on the floor a quick smell test before he pulls it on. He runs down the stairs, careful of the two creaky steps in the middle, and when he makes his way to the kitchen he sees Harry’s outline. He’s standing at the door, bathed in the light coming from the motion-sensor light the backyard, and Louis has to stop himself for a second when he realizes that Harry is actually home.

He opens the door and throws his arm around Harry without a word, squeezing him tight.

“Hi,” Harry says with a giggle, and then he squeezes back, and everything is perfect.

 

* * *

 

There are fireflies in the sky. He and Harry once spent an entire summer trying to catch fireflies in glass jars every evening. Three weeks ago, that thought would have made Louis sad, but it doesn’t now because Harry is here, laying on his back on the trampoline right next to him.

“I wish you could’ve been there, Lou, you would’ve loved it,” Harry says, finishing a story about how his friend Jeff had refused to go on any roller coasters after Space Mountain and had actually thrown a big fit, and how after that, Harry had realized that maybe he and Jeff weren’t that good friends after all.

“Yeah?” Louis says, a happy grin spreading over his face. Maybe all his fears about being replaced as Harry’s best friend were unfounded. It seems silly now, looking back at how ridiculous he was all summer. Harry’s his best friend, no amount of distance is going to make that go away.

“Yeah. USC was really fun and I loved California, don’t get me wrong, but it was so weird not being able to just walk into your house and hang out with you.”

“Me too,” Louis agrees. “Missed you, Haz.”

Harry catches his eye and the two of them look at each other for a long moment, Louis’ eyes taking in the face he knows almost as well as his own.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry asks, and there’s a hint of nerves in his tone.

“Yeah?” Something twists in his heart.

“Nothing,” Harry says, rolling over onto his back. “Never mind. I’m glad I’m home. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Louis says softly, and then he curls closer to Harry as they watch fireflies dance in the sky.

 

* * *

 

“Everything good with Harry?” asks Louis’ mom the next morning, watching him with thinly veiled amusement as she sips her coffee. Louis has decided that he’s going to make his mom and sisters pancakes for breakfast, the recipe for which he learned and perfected with Harry’s help months ago.

“Yeah, he’s great,” Louis says, pouring the batter onto the griddle and feeling lighter than he has in months. “Really great.”

“Does he know you’re in love with him yet?” Lottie asks, and Louis just rolls his eyes.

If he were in love with Harry, he would know.

 

* * *

 

There’s another party at Alex’s house, with the same faces and the same music and the same shitty beer as all the weeks before, but this time Louis feels like he can actually enjoy it.

He’s got Harry at his side, which means that he once again has someone to laugh at all the ridiculous things their friends are doing, which means that he enjoys the night much more.

“Hey, Harry! Welcome back, man.”

Harry, who has been leaning in close to whisper something in Louis’ ear, turns and brightens to see Gavin standing behind them. “Gavin, hi!”

He leans in for a big hug immediately, and Louis watches as Gavin returns the favor. _Stop, that’s enough,_ he thinks, and then wonders where that came from.

Harry, because he has to be nice to absolutely everyone in the whole world, from the checkout ladies in the grocery store to the dogs he passes on the street, allows Gavin to pull him into a conversation about their summers. Louis stands there in silence, listening as they ramble about film and photography and all these things Harry saw over the summer.

He loves the way that Harry’s face lights up when he talks about these things. Louis may not understand it, but he loves how passionate Harry gets. He just wishes Harry was paying attention to him instead.

“Hang on, you should come talk to Marcus,” Gavin says, tugging at Harry’s sleeve. “We went to that show together, he can tell you all about it.”

“Erm, alright,” Harry says, and he shoots Louis an apologetic look as he gets dragged away.

Louis watches as Harry takes a seat on a bench in the far corner of the yard, giving high fives and hugs to everyone he hasn’t seen in months. He loves that Harry has so many friends, that he’s friendly to absolutely everyone, but Louis almost wishes that they hadn’t come at all. It’s just that Harry’s been home less than 24 hours and he’s barely gotten to see him and he’s already having to let him go? It doesn’t seem fair.

 _This isn’t normal,_ he thinks, as he watches Harry fall into giggles as Marcus pats his leg and is consumed by a sudden urge to scoop Harry up and push the others away. _It’s not… I’m not supposed to feel like this. He’s my best friend. This isn’t…. no._

“Y’alright?” Zayn says, coming up to Louis and passing a plastic cup into his empty hand. “You don’t look so good.”

He doesn’t feel so good. He feels clammy and sweaty, on the verge of throwing up and passing out all at once.

“I think…” He puts the back of his hand to his forehead to check the temperature. “I think I’m—”

“What, Lou? You’re scaring me.”

Louis swallows hard and tears his eyes away from Harry’s laughing face to Zayn’s concerned one. He inhales shakily, tries to steady himself, fails. “I think I’m in love with Harry,” he says quietly, and then the panic hits him. “Fuck.”

Louis doesn’t know what he was expecting, maybe a hug or a supportive word, but Zayn just laughs into his drink and shakes his head.

“This isn’t funny,” Louis says very seriously, panic creeping into his veins. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, tell him?”

“You want me to tell Harry that I’m in _love with him?”_ Louis hisses as his knees threaten to buckle underneath him. He crumples to the ground, and Zayn quickly follows.

“Lou, it’s alright,” Zayn says, rubbing his hand up and down Louis’ back. “Really.”

“It’s not,” Louis says, his heart racing. How long has he been fucking _in love with Harry_ and not realized? “How did I not—I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” Zayn repeats. He sounds incredibly calm.

“You knew,” Louis accuses. “You knew about this and you never told me.” He thinks back to Lottie, to Fizzy and Phoebe and Daisy. They were right, all of them. They all knew. Everyone knew except him.  _Fuck._

“Well,” Zayn hedges. “Yeah.”

“Fucking shit,” Louis swears. “For how long?”

“Basically forever,” Zayn says, and Louis’ face turns cloudy. “The two of you have always been different than us. And it’s not just the best friends thing, there was always something more there. For a long time I figured you knew and just didn’t want to talk about it.”

“And now?” Logically, Louis knows that it’s not Zayn’s fault that he didn’t come to terms with his feelings until now. But he feels angry, caught off guard, and he needs somewhere to pin his anger.

“You were so off this summer, Lou,” Zayn says, pain lacing his tone. “Like half of you was missing because you guys were apart. That’s when I knew for sure that it wasn’t just a friends thing.”

“Jesus.” Louis scrubs his hands over his face and tries to adjust to the realization that’s settling into his bones. He’s been friends with Harry since they were toddlers, and he’s in love with him. He’s in love with his best friend. He loves Harry Styles. He’s known he’s loved him for years, but this is different. God, Louis is such a cliche, that guy who wakes up one day and realizes that he’s in love with his best friend.

“He feels the same way about you,” Zayn says quietly, an offhand comment that cuts through Louis’ racing thoughts and halts them like a train.

Louis shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

There’s not a chance in hell that Harry is in love with him. Harry is… well, he’s magnetic and funny and warm and caring and he’s all the best things Louis loves about the world wrapped into one human, Louis’ favorite human ever, and _God,_ how did it take him so long to realize that he was in love with him? But no, he’s not in love with Louis.

“He’s not,” Louis continues with a firm shake of his head. “So I can’t tell him. I can’t ruin our friendship like that.”

“You should,” Zayn says, and then Louis rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder and watches as everyone laughs at Harry’s story across the backyard. It’s Louis’ favorite laugh in the world. “You should tell him.”

 

* * *

 

The next few days pass in a weird haze as Louis works to rethink everything he’s ever known.

How did it take him fifteen fucking years to realize that he was in love with Harry? He thought he’d know when he was in love with someone, but it turns out love was that warm, settled, happy feeling he got around Harry. That comfort, the emotional intimacy, the feeling that he could talk about anything and still be perfectly safe, _that_ was love. _Is_ love.

He didn’t know that love would be wrapped up in sunshine and adoration, that the boy he’s ben calling his best friend for fifteen years is actually the love of his life.

He calls in sick to work and spends the day in bed, wrapped in blankets, trying to figure out what to do.

 

* * *

 

The boys think he should tell Harry. Zayn comes over and spends an entire two hours detailing all his evidence for why he thinks Harry reciprocates his feelings. Niall sends him a text that says they all love him and support him no matter what he decides, but also mentions that he’s been saying for years that Harry and Louis would be a perfect couple and that he really should tell him. Liam distracts him by sending him memes of baby animals.

He cancels plans to go to the movies with Harry, claiming that he’s sick, and really should have expected it when Harry shows up an hour later with soup and crackers.

He tells his mom to tell Harry that he’s not feeling up for hanging out, and she brings the food to his room and climbs into his bed next to him.

“I think you should tell him,” she says softly, after Louis staunchly refuses to talk about it. He kind of regrets spilling his guts to her that night when he got home from the party, but he’d needed her comfort.

“I don’t want to,” he says with a pout, looking at the soup on his bedside table. It smells like carrot ginger, his favorite, and there’s a note on the box of crackers that, in Harry’s chicken scratch handwriting, tells him to get well soon.

“Louis, how many people have ever brought you soup in your _life?”_ she asks him, brushing his hair back from his face. “That’s not a thing people do, unless they really care about the person. And you didn’t see him. He looked so worried about you.”

“That’s because that’s how he is,” Louis grumbles. The soup smells delicious and he _really_ wants some, but he also doesn’t want Harry’s pity soup. “He made soup for Fizzy that time she broke her foot.”

“He did that because he wanted an excuse to come out and hang out with you,” she says. “I know it’s your life, but I’m your mom, and I can tell that this is eating you alive. You should tell him, Lou. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Louis closes his eyes and really thinks about it. He doesn’t think the boys have said all those things as part of some master plan to humiliate him. And then there’s his mom, who he trusts implicitly, and she’s telling him exactly what the boys are telling him. And then there’s Harry, who made him ‘Get Well’ soup and texted him four times today, and Louis _loves_ him.

“Even on the off chance he doesn’t feel the same,” his mom continues, “it’s Harry. Would he ever break your heart?”

“No,” Louis says immediately, certainty radiating from his chest. “He’d never.”

 

* * *

 

If Louis expected things to be easy once he made the decision to tell Harry that he’s in love with him, he completely missed the mark. Now every interaction they share is consumed with thoughts of ‘is this what I would normally say?’ and ‘is now the right time to tell him?’ and ‘oh no, what if I’ve misjudged the whole thing?’

It’s exhausting.

“Why don’t you tell him at the carnival?” Niall asks quietly one evening when they’re all watching a movie in Liam’s basement. Harry is in the bathroom and the others have taken advantage of the lull to pester Louis about when he’s finally going to tell Harry. On some level, Louis gets it: if he’d found out that two of his best friends were possibly going to fall in love, he’d want the action to start already too. But this is his heart and his life and his best friend on the line, and he won’t let anyone rush it.

“Tell who what at the carnival?” Harry asks, strolling back into the room. He lifts his t-shirt to wipe a bead of sweat off his face, and Louis’ mind whites out at the sight of Harry’s tan, muscled chest. There’s a bit of baby fat still clinging to his hips, but the summer away has been good to him. Louis doesn’t quite know what to do with a Harry who looks like this and smells like this and curls up next to him ready to start the movie. “You’re not planning to ditch me, are you?”

He looks up at Louis with a pitiful look on his face, and Louis is so endeared that he boops Harry on the nose and shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. As if I could ever ditch you, Curly. Not after going together for ten years.”

“Good,” Harry says with a bright smile, and then he leans his head on Louis’ shoulder and Louis spends the rest of the night trying not to combust.

 

* * *

 

“Note to self,” Harry mutters when they stumble off the round-up, that horrible amusement park ride where one attaches themselves to the wall and gets spun around and around, “never eat before going on that ride ever again. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Louis is just trying to avoid seeing his soft pretzel again. “I’m never going on that ride again, period. I don’t understand why you like it so much.”

“I thought you _loved_ that ride.”

“Not anymore,” Louis shakes his head. “It’s awful.”

Harry frowns. “Alright, well. What do you _want_ to do, then?”

Louis considers it. It’s late afternoon. They’ve already conquered the tilt-a-whirl, played arcade games, gorged themselves on cotton candy and pretzels and hot dogs, and dunked their high school principal in the dunk tank.

The carnival is exactly the same as it’s been for the last ten years they’ve been doing this. That’s not the problem. The problem is that Louis has changed. Because this Louis has realized he’s in love with Harry, and he can’t help but fixate on that all day.

“What about the games again? We should have time for a few before the boys get here.”

Harry nods. “Maybe I’ll win you a stuffed animal this time.”

He makes good on his promise, winning Louis a giant stuffed lion that’s almost as big as him. Louis feels a bit obnoxious walking around the carnival grounds with it, but he’s also very proud.

“Are you gonna sleep with that in your bed?” Harry teases as they walk it to the car. The timing works because they’re supposed to meet the boys anyway. That’s the tradition;: Harry and Louis spend the day together, and then the boys join them in the evening. Louis doesn’t understand how they ever got away with citing that as a platonic thing. “You can snuggle it when you get lonely. Maybe you can pretend it’s me.”

“Maybe,” Louis says faintly, but he doesn’t like what Harry’s alluding to. He doesn’t want a stupid stuffed lion in his bed. He wants Harry.

It’s been mixed signals all day: one minute Harry will look like he’s about three seconds from planting a kiss on Louis’ lips, and then the next he’s talking about the date he went on when he was in California, some guy who kissed like a fish. And never got a second date. Louis doesn’t want to hear about other people kissing Harry. He wants Harry all to himself.

He doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when the others show up, but least it’s a break from one-on-one interaction with Harry.

“You tell him yet?” Zayn asks, linking his arm through Louis’ and pulling him aside.

“Obviously not,” Louis grumbles. “This whole thing is awful, I don’t think there’s any point.”

“Please,” Zayn says, and his tone is practically begging. “Please just tell him once and for all so that at least you’ll know. You can’t keep killing yourself over this.”

“Fine,” Louis huggs. “If it’s such an inconvenience to you, I’ll tell him tonight.”

“It’s not an inconvenience,” Zayn cries, irritated now. “I’m just trying to help you stop being such a lovesick idiot.”

Louis rolls his eyes and doesn’t say another word until they get to the Ferris wheel.

“I’m going with Louis,” Harry insists, and so they get into the line ahead of the others. Louis stands in silence, hands in the pockets of his jeans, kicking his faded Vans against the grass over and over again as they wait for their turn.

“I’m so glad we always do this at sunset,” Harry muses. “It’s one of my favorite traditions.”

There’s awe in his voice, and he looks so fucking beautiful right now, his cheeks flushed and happy, his eyes bright, and Louis loves him. Louis loves him and he’s going to have to tell him at some point and he doesn’t know how.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dropping his eyes back to his shoes. “Me too.”

Harry frowns slightly, but stays quiet until the girl working the ride, someone Louis recognizes from school, lets them on: Louis first, and then Harry.

They start their slow ascent to the sky, and Louis focuses on the carnival grounds opening up before them. He cranes his neck down to see Niall, Liam, and Zayn climbing into their own car, just two cars below them. They all look happy. A lot happier than Louis feels, that’s for sure. Why did he have to be the one to fall in love with his best friend? Why couldn’t it have been anyone else?

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Harry asks, pointing to the sunset.

Louis mutters his agreement and tries not to notice the way the fading light bathes Harry in a soft glow, making him look angelic. He wants to go back to the time before, when he didn’t feel so desperately attracted to Harry every time he so much as glanced at him.

“Alright, Louis, what’s wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Harry’s tone is harsher than Louis has ever heard it. “You’ve been weird all day, reticent and standoffish.”

Louis’ skin prickles like goosebumps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” Harry challenges. “Ever since I got back, actually. You’ve been off and I thought maybe it was me, something I did. And if it is, I just have to know.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Louis says. He can’t meet Harry’s eyes.

“That’s bullshit, Lou. Something’s different and I can’t figure it out and I miss you and I want to fix it, whatever it is.”

There’s a real fucking irony in this, isn’t there, that Louis feels like he’s standing on a precipice as they’re rising higher and higher in the sky. Louis can see everything from here, the community center and the bank and the grocery store where he works. There’s no turning back from this. It’s now or never, and he has to choose now.

“It’s because I’m fucking in love with you!” he yells, and Harry’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide and the ferris wheel stops.

The fucking ferris wheel stops and everything goes silent. Louis’ heart is pounding so loud he can hear it behind his ears.

“W—what did you just say?” Harry stutters.

“You heard me,” Louis says sullenly, the adrenaline disappearing as he sinks into himself. He can hear Niall whooping a few cars down below. “I’m in love with you and I’ve been trying to make it go away and I _can’t._ I know that makes things weird for you, I promise I’ll act like nothing’s changed, I swear that you don’t have to be—”

“Say it again,” Harry demands, cutting him off.

“I promise you don’t need to be weirded out,” Louis repeats. He feels itchy and desperate and needs to go home and cry right this minute.

Harry shakes his head and actually _laughs,_ the asshole. He laughs right in Louis’ face and shakes his head. “No, the other thing. What you said at the start.”

“I’m in love with you,” Louis says slowly. He never thought Harry would be so deliberately cruel as to—

“And I’m in love with you,” Harry says, a grin threatening to splinter his face in two. “Have been for ages. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

Louis’ mouth feels dry. “What?”

“I said,” Harry repeats, “that I’ve been in love with you for a long, long time.”

“You—seriously?” Louis asks, and he knows Harry would never joke about this but he doesn’t quite trust it.

“For as long as I can remember,” Harry says with a self-satisfied nod. “God, this summer was hell without you. The worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, actually. I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” Louis says, and it starts to sink in that this is real. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

The way Harry’s face brightens is the best thing Louis has ever seen in his life. “God, I thought you’d never ask. Yes.”

The sky is pink around them and Liam is yelling to ask what’s going on and other people are cheering, but Louis tunes all that out and kisses Harry instead.

It’s their first kiss, but it feels like they’ve been doing this for a thousand years. It’s picnic blankets and fireflies and s’mores and ‘I think I like boys, Lou,’ and sticky fingers from melted ice cream and secrets whispered in the dark. It’s fireworks on the Fourth of July and curling up under blankets in the winter and  wearing matching Halloween costumes. It’s shared childhoods and knowing everything about each other. It’s all of this in one kiss, and Louis already knows that he doesn’t ever want to stop kissing Harry.

Unfortunately, he has to breathe at some point, so he pulls away from Harry and rests their foreheads together.

“You wanna get out of here?” Harry whispers.

“I would,” Louis says, laughing shakily and blinking tears out of his eyes, “if we could ever get off this fucking ride.”

Harry laughs, the wholehearted laugh that Louis has realized is his favorite sound in the world, and Louis can’t help but laugh too. “However will we pass the time?”

“I think I have an idea,” Louis says with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

A week later, they walk into their senior year of high school with their hands clasped. “Have a good day, baby,” Louis says when they reach Harry’s homeroom.

“You too,” Harry says with a grin, and when he leans in for another kiss, Louis is powerless to deny him.

It’s going to be a good year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought :)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://afirethatcannotdie.tumblr.com) || reblog the [fic post](http://afirethatcannotdie.tumblr.com/post/160682126041/never-be-ready-by-afirethatcannotdie-remember-the)


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